


the eye of the hurricane

by silvery_sunset



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Can be Read as Shippy or Gen, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, M/M, Post-Timeskip, Self-Indulgent, Weather metaphors, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvery_sunset/pseuds/silvery_sunset
Summary: A hurricane is made out of warm oceanic water, low air pressure mixed in certain latitudes.Miya Atsumu meets one made out of stormy eyes and hunger.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Nishinoya Yuu, Miya Atsumu/Nishinoya Yuu
Comments: 3
Kudos: 57





	the eye of the hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> I'm the captain of a lonely ship and this is my neon colored sign pointing at 11 manga chapters of pure and raw tension.

"You know, nothing out there compares to good, genuine japanese food!" Nishinoya licks his lips, eyes frenectically sliding up and down, right and left all over the menu. "Why onigiri, though?" 

"'cause here's the best onigiri place ya will ever find, trust me." Atsumu leaned against the back of his seat, crossing his legs to sit more comfortably. 

"I'll give you one chance." He slid the menu back to Atsumu, pointing at his own choice, before letting his eyes wander around the decor of the shop.

"And ya ain't regrettin'" Atsumu mumbled, picking it up. 

\--

The world is a really small place, and it reminds Atsumu of it once again, slapping his face inside a convenience store nearby the building he lives in, his favorite place to sneak in whenever the public volleyball court is locked. The gym is nice too, sometimes. 

His roots are growing again, he looks like Osamu in their third year, or a sad depiction of a bee's color scheme in bad quality crayons scribbled on paper by a toddler. If three years of high school volleyball had taught him something, it was that he should never try to give himself a dye job at home ever again, and that listening to Osamu was worth it. 

He's still doubting the last point though. 

Atsumu squints at his reflection in the mirror, gets rid of an annoying growing stubble that growed stubbornly on the underside of his jaw. He blows his fringe away from his eyes. It's 7 PM. He can leave it to another day. He should leave it for another day. 

He's out of his house in five minutes, standing on the gate to the outside of the building because he doesn't feel the weight of his keys against his jacket's pocket. 

It's a windy day, typical autumn. He just turned 21 last week, the number leaving a bittersweet flavor on his tongue. He should check his hairline on the shop's mirrors. 

The walk is short until the convenience store, Atsumu only registered he had earphones in when he couldn't hear the bell ringing when he opened the door. The shuffle playlist abandoned him and his too loud thoughts inside of it to the sound of a catchy tune in Korean and the hay balls rolling in the desert of his head. The sound is replaced by his mental shopping list.

_Hair dye. Maybe a lighter shade. Is bleaching at home really a bad idea? Gel. He's out it. Soda, Kappa Ebisen Plum chips, this week's Jump…_

"If you wanna try bleaching it at home." Someone pointed at the box of hair dye he had in his hands, showcasing a model he has never seen in his life and a fancy name that his eyes translate to 'not quite bleach blonde'. 

"'M gonna get an appointment to do it." His lips prepared to smile, but his eyes turned around, lowered their gaze a little and his mouth made a weird gawking noise in a pathetic attempt to suppress a gasp. 

Before his eyes there were tiny hands holding a bleach bottle, they belonged to arms, that belonged to a body that belonged to a familiar grin, dark brown eyes and spiky hair. 

"N-noya-kun?!"

The Nishinoya Yuu lookalike blinked before falling into a giggle that melted into a small smile. "Nice seeing you here, Miya Atsumu-san." 

Atsumu blinked too. The hair dye box fell on the floor, in overly dramatic slow motion to his brain, of course. 

What the hell was Nishinoya Yuu doing in Japan? In Osaka? _In his favorite convenience store?_

\--

Atsumu is not proud of himself, actually. He bribed Bokuto for Shouyou's phone number some months ago with a month long onigiri supply, which he had decided to tell him in the very moment his brother had a kitchen knife in hands and too much suppressed rage due to "costumer service" issues. He texted Shouyou at 2 AM after gathering the courage to talk to him.

Between catching up to each other's lives, explaining how in the ever loving heavens he'd gotten his number and multiple pictures of landscapes from Brazil, a question that heavied on the tip of his tongue made its way to his fingers and to the very chat they were in. 

_Is Noya-kun playin'? I haven't heard of him in a while_

Shouyou took three days of torturing and painful wait to answer it. 

It shouldn't be that much of a big deal. He's making himself a name in the volleyball world, focused on his own self improvement and harboring new skills to secure his place inside his favorite spot in the world. 

Still, it lingers in his mind. 

When he's practicing his serves inside his team's gym, whenever Bokuto doesn't ask for extra practice or Meian scolds him out of getting himself an injury, Atsumu remembers. 

He closes his eyes, he's 17 again and his eyes glow in childish excitement and curiosity over a freak duo and the display of their combined power. He's in Tokyo's orange court and his high school's cheering squad obeys his command. He locks eyes with a small boy wearing the same colors as him, a net dividing them on sides. 

Atsumu wants to toy with their confidence, shatter their willpower with his own hands with his serves and diminish it to a cry for help. The fox's hungry gaze glints on the only crow that couldn't fly. 

And it bites. 

He's been watching him, their libero, since coach showed Karasuno's games to their team. Akagi-san tensed up whenever Ushiwaka's spikes bounced off his arms in the classifier's finals, wincing at some phantom sting on his forearms. 

Karasuno was fascinating, it was all he could think. 

In the last minutes of the game, he felt his body wanting to jump out of the seat. Two saves in a row, skillfully predicted by the player wearing orange and black, who lifted the ball up in the air, continuing the flow in Karasuno's favor. 

_Nishinoya Yuu._

He hadn't seen the name in the list of selected players for U-19 Japan National training camp which he'd checked right after leaving his stuff inside his own dorm room, skimming through the names, mumbling some and rereading the kanji. 

Atsumu shrugged it off, he knew skill when he saw. He knew amazing players that deserved to be there, by his side, familiar faces that could take them on equal foot and yet, were not selected. 

_"The flame burns brighter in you"_

Is Nishinoya's fire weaker than theirs, too? 

The crow struggled under the fox's claws in the second set of the match. Maybe he was right all along, he could've gone past Ushiwaka's southpaw, but couldn't help but crumble under the pressure of being aimed for. 

Nevertheless, Nishinoya's grip was still and strong on his side of the rope and the flame in his eyes was different from anything he's seen before. 

Atsumu's power was overwhelming on every side, pressing him against the floor, insisting on breaking the very first step to let Karasuno counterattack.

When his eyes met Nishinoya's for the umpteenth time in the toggle war he was sure to win, Atsumu found himself sweeped off his feet, transported to a latitude of 15° by the ocean water, warm and moist at 80°F, in a low air pressure zone. The world seems to crumble under a long lasting torrential storm. He's in the eye of the hurricane. 

Crows don't always fight in the air, sometimes they crush you on the lower ground, overpowering the mightiest and hungry fox. 

If Nishinoya hasn't given up yet, neither has Atsumu even after their game.

One can't quite forget being inside a hurricane, Atsumu reasons. Nishinoya's effect might be of the same wonder, devastation and lasting marks all over the place. 

In their third year, he's there. The guardian deity of Karasuno's defense, say the commentators. He may as well not be from the mortal world, not with the way a single look from his slit pupils pierces through Atsumu's own eyes and pulls him into a hypnotic trance. 

The storm is alive in his eyes, and Atsumu won't admit it's his time to shake under it. 

Nishinoya is good. Great. He's never known any player with the same power inside of a court. He's seen better technique, cleaner movements and more offensive plays even inside the very championship they met, but none of it could dream to match the sensation of being surrounded by a soothing yet devastating storm. 

So, when the three days of wait to get the answer to his question ends and Shouyou finally checks his damn cell phone, Atsumu's reaction is completely, absolutely comprehensible and reasonable. 

_What the fuck does "he's traveling. Like, whole world traveling" means?!_

What did he miss?

The answer presents itself holding a bottle of bleach inside a convenience store, looking exactly the same and yet entirely different from the boy he knew. 

It's awkward. He wants to crawl into a hole on the floor when he slams a shelf after getting up with his own box of dye in his hands and shoving it into his basket. 

"Whatcha doin' around here? Shouyou-kun told ya 'been travelin' or somethin'" he hopes Shouyou did an overly elaborate prank. Maybe traveling means playing internationally. Maybe Nishinoya is in a college circuit. 

"I didn't know you were living in Osaka now." He replies, picking up a deodorant spray bottle that rolled besides his feet and placing it back on its place. "I'm passing by Japan. Visiting some friends, family. There's a wedding I wanna see too." 

"A friend of yers?"

Nishinoya nods and turns around on his way to the cashier, Atsumu follows behind him in the line. 

His back is broader. Atsumu didn't get to see it much when they played, but it's always been small, fitting for his frame. He still has some good inches on Nishinoya after all this time, yet, he only feels smaller as his eyes scan his frame. 

Of course, time hasn't stopped. Atsumu has grown and so has Nishinoya, into a man so similar and yet so distant from the version he knew. 

Has the hurricane left his gaze? 

"Pay me a popsicle and we can keep talking." Nishinoya stated, putting his stuff inside a fabric bag hanging from his arm. 

Atsumu raises an eyebrow to him. 

"It's been a whole year since my last Gari gari-kun, come on!" He giggles again and Atsumu shoves a hand inside the freezer besides the cashier's spot and hands the girl a soda flavored popsicle in blue wrapping. 

They leave the shop together, walking on the sidewalk with filled bags in hands. Atsumu got himself a chuupet before leaving and watched Nishinoya lick his lips before biting the popsicle in half, humming at the sweet flavor. Osamu would be proud of him. Maniacs. 

"Ya really think eating these is good in this weather?"

"Says the guy biting the ice pop. What have you been up to? " He realizes talking to Nishinoya is another toggle war to be won. Atsumu swallows the rest of the candy and takes his spot.

"Ya made me pay for this so I ask the questions." He bit into the empty chuupet.

"You're no fun, Atsumu-san" he rolls his eyes and throws the popsicle stick in the trash can. "Go on, ask" 

"Where were ya all this time?"

He stops in his step, closing his eyes. The fall breeze shakes the fabric of the clothes and Atsumu's damp fringe, Nishinoya inhales it slowly and exhales, his lips once again forming a small, almost undetectable smile. 

"I've been in a lot of places, Atsumu-san." He starts, heading towards a bench in front of another store. "But nothing feels like home." 

Atsumu nods and sits by his right, leaving his bag on the floor. 

"This world is so big, I've met the places around a single sea, not even a whole ocean, and it's already been two years since then. Greece, Malta, France, Spain, Turkey… it's like, inside the world, there's small worlds we only have a vague idea of until we dive right into them."

"But the world is also small, there's stuff we'll never get to know about, doesn't it?"

"Isn't it exciting?" Nishinoya grins at the sight before them, a slightly starry sky and a moon covered by clouds. Nothing special, he's probably seen better, more beautiful skies around the places he's been.

"We're all under the same sky." Atsumu snorts. "And yet so distant."

"It's an infinite adventure, and it's fun. Like volleyball is fun to you." 

Atsumu would argue about the poor word choice, but it's as simple as Noya showcases it, the reason why his hunger is never ending can be the same thrill that drives the walking hurricane into taking over the world in his own way and throwing himself knee deep into this seemingly crazy mission. 

It's fun. It's fulfilling, adrenaline inducing, pleasurable. 

It makes him hungry for more. 

Nishinoya's eyes still carry the storm inside them, lightning strikes and thunder claps inside his irises. He's as overwhelmingly devastating as a hurricane. When he talks after Atsumu proposes hanging out a little more for dinner, the words are frenetically rolling off his tongue and shaking his ground like a mighty earthquake. 

"You were right" Nishinoya's voice is muffled by his mouthful of onigiri, he swallows it all down easily. Atsumu worries about his metabolism. "This is the best onigiri in all of Japan. Osamu-san's amazing!" 

Atsumu holds back a smile at the compliment. Genuine compliment that Osamu would love to hear and brag about for days, if only this wasn't his day off. He'd tell him later. Next week, maybe. 

Right now, he draws a conclusion when Nishinoya greets him goodbye and jumps in a train all the way to Tokyo. 

The flames of hunger burn in Nishinoya's soul, blazing hot and engulfing the environment around them. 

Atsumu was a fool for thinking they'd be contained inside a volleyball court.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm insane


End file.
